Road to Life
by Machlassie
Summary: The dream that Sergei Dragunov had long yearned for has finally been attained, the happiness that was once out of reach was now his. Yet, one man, whose sole purpose is to perfect the world, cannot give the White Angel of Death his peace as he believes he is an obstacle in the journey God has sent him on. However, Sergei will defy any God if it means keeping his dream alive.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Author's Notes: Welcome to the sequel of Call of the Bluebird. I doubt you could understand this story if you haven't read the prequel, but hey, I could be wrong. This story will deal more with Jin and the Mishima Zaibatsu and will hopefully tie up loose ends I left in Call of the Bluebird. I will warn you that it starts off slow and…lovey-dovey. But if you know me, that stuff is a necessity in my stories. Thanks for reading and tell me what you think! **

There is a fundamental belief in which states that the world follows God's recipe. Every action we take, every ordeal we encounter has been predestined by the Almighty. That He had decided, on the day of our birth, what we would become, what we would make of ourselves…what role we would play. Yet while we are given roles similar to one another, one young man believes that his given duty is to lead the people into the perfect world; the world he believes he was destined to create. In this ideal world there would be no strife or war, greed or misery. There would be no need to seek for endless riches or eternal life. There would be no need to dream. Everything you could ever want, you already had. When such a utopia awaited you, why defy this man?

Standing atop a skyscraper which had once belonged to a renowned business man only minutes ago, were two men; one clad in red armor, the other draped in a black trench coat. They stood in silence as police and ambulance sirens blared on the streets below them, all of them reporting to the scene of yet another assassination led by the Mishima Zaibatsu.

Lars stared at the younger man across from him and felt his jaw clench at the expression he wore. There he stood, calm and composed, remaining aloof despite the fact that just minutes ago, he had stolen yet another life. He pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it at the boy, at the same time asking solemnly, "Why did you do it?"

Jin passed the man a blank look as he looked his face over. The Swede before him radiated determination as he had come to learn. Always chasing him in a futile attempt to interfere with his plans, he would sacrifice life and limb to save one pitiful being. Ignoring the question completely, Jin replied back, "You're not like the others."

Confused by his reply, Lars slowly began shifting the gun downwards. "Others?"

"You don't follow God's recipe."

As he was contemplating the answer he received, Lars watched as the raven-haired man began backing up until his back was up against the railing separating him from solid ground and a twenty-story drop. Before he could wonder what he was planning on doing, Jin jumped into the air, causing all of Lars's limbs to launch into action. "What are you-?!" Lars stopped short in his attempt at reaching for the young man as he found that Jin had gracefully landed on the railing, unbothered by the fall that awaited him if even the slightest of breezes blew.

Looking back at Lars, Jin spotted the panic-stricken look he held and said assuredly, "I will not fall. God will not permit it."

"Jin," Lars yelled, "Get down!" He considered on threatening him with his gun, but seeing as how he was already in a life or death situation, he didn't see the need.

"You don't understand," Jin said from his higher position, "God will not allow me to die here or now because I have a duty to do in the future."

Lars gulped, worried for his half-nephew, and figured that the best way to save him was to play along, convince him that he believed whatever words poured from his mouth. "That so?"

Jin turned his back to him to look out at the thriving city around them. With open arms, he said, "My role is to lead these people to the perfect world…It is what God wants." He dropped his arms down to his sides to look over his shoulder at the soldier and with narrowed eyes, whispered, "Yet here you are, a single man standing up to me, trying to stop me…You are defying God's will."

"Jin…" Lars whispered his name as he watched him turn his eyes back to the city.

"Perhaps," Jin said as he made his plunge, "It is your role to stop me…"

Running over to the ledge, Lars looked over only to find that the young tyrant was now dangling on his helicopter's rescue rope, safe and sound. Despite all the trouble Jin had caused worldwide, Lars felt himself relax knowing that he was out of danger. Watching as they flew away, Lars replayed the conversation with Jin through his mind. "God's recipe, huh…?"

He heard footsteps begin to approach him and before the new arrivals even had a chance to speak, Lars answered, "He got away…" Turning to look at his soldiers, Lars began walking towards them, "Let's go. We can catch him if hurry."

**XxxxxxX**

It had been a near five months since the restoration of Russia began and now it seemed all things were back to the way they should, if not, better. The trust of the people which had once been used as a tool by a certain tyrant had now returned to SPETSNAZ and its leader. Peace reigned and it was all due to the former White Angel of Death, Sergei Dragunov.

Five months…Sergei almost couldn't believe so much time had passed since he claimed his spot as SPETSNAZ leader and for once, began living a serene life. Although many would refer to his life as repetitive, constantly coming and going from the office to his home with no breaks in between, for him, it was the life he had secretly wished for so many years ago. In the daytime he would work to protect the people that adored and admired him while at night, after all the work was done, he would return home to the woman who loved him most. Call it monotonous all they want, but for once, Sergei Dragunov was at peace.

As Sergei returned home the following evening, he was greeted with the burbling of a baby. Following the sound, he found himself standing outside his bedroom door. Without the need to knock, he quietly opened the door and peered in, his heart fluttering at the sight that lay before him.

On the bed sat his love interest, Anna Williams, cradling a rambling baby in her arms. She had a soft look in her eyes as she admired the child before her and so indulged was she with the infant she had yet to notice her own love at the door until he stepped in and dropped his suitcase. "Hmm?" She looked up and spotted the soldier, causing a gentle smile to form on her lips. "You're home early."

She rose to her feet to greet him properly, landing a sweet kiss to his lips. Once they pulled away, Sergei looked down at the child while Anna went on to explain, "Annessa dropped her off today while she went shopping." She passed the baby a playful glare and raised her up to eye-level. "Guess I'm nothing more than a babysitter to that woman…" Without explaining why, she gingerly handed the girl off to Sergei before she left the bedroom and headed downstairs.

Alone in the room with the baby, Sergei stared at her, taking into account all of her features; platinum blonde hair that belonged to her mother along with doe-brown eyes that could belong to no one else but her late great father, Kliment. At the mention of the man, Sergei felt his jaw clench as he unknowingly began rubbing his finger against the child's chubby cheek.

"Sergei…?" A sweet voice broke him from his reverie. He turned to the doorway where he found Anna and Annessa standing.

With a smirk on her face, Anna said teasingly, "She wants her baby back Sergei…"

After having the baby deposited into her arms, Annessa gave him a smile and whispered, "Thank you for taking care of her." Landing a kiss on her daughter's cheek, the mother asked patronizingly, "Did you cause them any trouble?" As a reply, the child giggled and gurgled away, happy to be back in familiar arms.

After all thanks and gratitude were exchanged, Anna led Annessa to the front door to say their final farewells for the night while Sergei prepared himself for bed. "Thanks again for taking care of her, Anna."

"It's not a problem," the brunette replied.

Annessa nodded then looked over Anna's shoulder, making sure they were truly alone. With Sergei nowhere in sight, she asked in a quiet tone, "So have you two talked about it yet? About getting a baby?"

At this, Anna gasped, shocked at the question, and quickly averted her eyes downward. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she didn't exactly know what to say. "You know how he is…He's too busy to think about things like that…"

Annessa wasn't convinced with her answer but found that she didn't want to pester her any further. With a gentle chuckle, she placed her hand on her shoulder and replied, "If you say so. But you know, maybe it should be your guys' next conversation in bed. Unless that is, you have other things to talk about?"

"Hmph." Anna replied haughtily, a slight blush reading on her cheeks, "How 'bout you and that golden child of yours get home now? It's getting late."

With a smile on her lips, Annessa took her baby's arm and gave Anna a wave goodbye. "We'll see you soon, Anna. Remember what I said." With that, she entered the awaiting cab and drove off, leaving a thoughtful Anna at the front door.

Later that night, Anna, after donning on lacy pink intimates, prepared to leave the bathroom until her own reflection in the mirror stopped her. It wasn't particularly her face that captured her attention, but rather her flat stomach. She placed her hands on her abdomen as thoughts from earlier raided her mind. Her, a mom? She scoffed at the idea.

"Sergei…" Anna's singsong voice emanated from the bathroom and before long Sergei was graced with her scantily-clad presence. He looked her over, noticing every curve she possessed, and wondered if she had gotten more luxurious over the months they've been together. He had been too indulged in her mental growths to notice her physical changes.

When they first met, she was nothing more than a flirtatious woman, using her charms to not only get what she wanted, but as a defense. She wanted to show the world that she didn't need anyone; that she needs only to rely on herself. However, when she came to live with him, her true self began to come out. It was true, she was still kittenish and…playful, but once in a while he was graced with a worried look or a concerned voice. It seemed as if he loved her most when she was vulnerable.

Taking her hand as she approached him, Sergei pulled her down atop of him and began to remove her long brown hair from its usual pin-up. Though she was stunning in his eyes with her bob cut, Sergei much rather preferred the long hair she wore now as there was so much more he could tangle his fingers in. Once her locks were free to roll down her shoulders and back, Sergei planted his nose on her crown and took in her scent.

As he did so, Anna planted her lips to his collarbone and gradually crept upwards until she was looking at his mouth. Not allowing Anna anytime to tease him, Sergei crushed their lips together, keeping her held in place by her hair. Anna would never admit it, but to be overpowered by the always aggressive and dominant Sergei was always one of her favorite parts of their lovemaking.

"Sergei…" she moaned as she broke free from his grip. "Can I ask you something…?"

She sounded serious with her tone so, sitting up with her straddling his waist, Sergei leaned down so her lips were by his ear. He listened to her question and when she pulled away, he granted her with a glare along with his simple answer of, "No." Before she could retaliate, as he knew she would, Sergei kissed her, keeping her quiet as well as initiating their lovemaking as the clothes began getting removed…

**XxxxxxX**

Lars froze at the latest report he received from his subordinate. "Repeat that," he ordered, his voice harsher than he intended it to be.

"Uh, y-yes sir!" The young man saluted. "From our latest investigation, it seems that Jin Kazama has made his next target to be SPETSNAZ's leader, Sergei Dragunov."

Keeping his eyes cast down on the floor, Lars nodded, regaining his composure. "Have you predicted when he'll strike?"

"Not as of now, sir. Though it is likely it won't be beyond two days."

"Then we're heading to Russia, ASAP," the Swede spoke. "Go gather the others." Before he could receive another salute, he walked off, rushing to get to the helicopter.

He knew that if Jin's attack happened, regardless of whether his target died or not, Russia would no longer be in peace. And not only was it for Russia's sake that he had to stop this strike, but Lars didn't plan on losing another friend to this tyrant…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The heart monitor was the only sound to be heard in the room as its continuous beeping counted the young lady's heart rate. With the majority of her face wrapped in bandages, the only trait one could distinguish her with was her jet black hair which lay sprawled out on her pillow. She had been asleep for over three weeks now, the doctors stating that she was in a deep coma, and was put under life support. The doctors were given strict orders, by the man who had delivered her to them, to never give up on her. "Please," the man had begged, "don't let her die." Oddly enough, despite the concern he had showed for the girl, the medics had yet to see him come visit her.

As Lars and his crew were making their way to Russia, their helicopter flying at speeds thought impossible to be reached by the vehicle, the young captain was staring down at his open palm where a sterling silver, heart-shaped locket sat. Its silver coloring was slightly faded due to the fire it was pulled from and was melded shut, its contents forever hidden.

Two crewmembers, who had been staring at his blank expression from a few seats over, passed each other a concerned look as their minds shared the same thought. Since the latest bombing Jin Kazama had performed, which had been nearly three weeks ago, they had noticed the change their captain had gone through. He had grown distant and his voice was heard only when he was giving orders or discussing a mission. Of course they knew what had provoked such behavior, but neither how to cure it. Even they, who although were not nearly as close to Lars' two lieutenants as he was, found that they couldn't get over their absence as well.

Eventually, Lars tucked the item back into his inner chest pocket and stared vacantly out the window. The gentle falling of the snow from the drab grey sky signaled that they were approaching Russia, hopefully before Jin had. Nonetheless, despite how dire the situation was, Lars couldn't find it in himself to concentrate entirely on the mission at hand as his mind kept wandering to his two lost lieutenants.

He winced as he told himself that now wasn't the time to be mourning. There were other lives to protect, other lives that needed him. Lives with the names Sergei Dragunov and Anna Williams…

**XxxxxxX**

It was an hour after Anna had fallen asleep but Sergei was still up, unable to get himself to sleep as he was studying his partner beside him. Despite how well Anna may try to hide it, Sergei could tell something had been off about her behavior tonight. It had occurred the moment she had wanted to ask him a question. She had seemed so serious yet all she asked, after faltering, was, "Can I be on top?"

The more he thought of her awkward comportment, the more he wanted to know what her real question was. If there was something wrong, he wanted to know. Gently placing his warm hand on her cheek, he hoped to arouse her from her slumber, but all he received was an incoherent murmur as she gripped his limb and continued on with her dream. Perhaps, he decided with a gentle smile on his face, he would ask her tomorrow.

Just as he was prepared to drift to sleep as Anna had, the phone on the nightstand had begun to vibrate and ring. Reluctantly releasing Anna from the spooning position he had her in, Sergei turned to check who would be calling at this time of night.

"Commander," a female voice radiated from the other end of the receiver, "we have urgent news."

Quickly sitting up from his position, Sergei obliviously awoke the sleeping beauty beside him and listened as his subordinate delivered her "urgent news."

"We have recently reported a sight of unknown aircrafts coming in from the eastern border. We have gone through records of allowed jets in our airspace, and from what we have confirmed, there should be no planes entering at this time. We have tried to communicate with them through the radios, but they have remained silent." She went silent for a while before continuing, "I fear that they may be terrorists."

Before the woman had even finished delivering her news, Sergei was already up, getting dressed and preparing to head out. Anna, who had watched his behavior since waking up, set herself upon one elbow and watched as he opened the door leading out into the hallway. Before she could react quickly enough, he had already exited their bedroom, causing her to groan.

Lazily, she reached over to grab her silky red bathrobe and after throwing it on, she followed after him, hoping that his long strides hadn't taken him to the front door yet. Just as she finished descending the last few steps, she heard the entry shut, making her up her speed before he could get any further. Quickly, she threw open the door, allowing entry to the cold night air, and yelled out, "And where are you going?"

Sergei was midway through exiting their property entirely when he had heard her call for him. Turning around, he spotted her dressed in her bathrobe while her long brown hair, now messy from their midnight fun, was tossed over one shoulder. With each breath she took, he could see smoke form in the air, definitely not a night to come out wearing nothing but silk. He walked back up to the front porch where her figure awaited him.

When he was standing before her with only centimeters separating them from one another, Anna ran her hands over his shoulders, down to his chest before pressing up against him. "Is something wrong," she asked, her hands never stopping their roam over his torso.

Peering into her icy blue pools, Sergei spotted the concern in them and couldn't help but give a gentle smile. No matter how much she tried to hide it under a sexy tone, she could never prevent it from showing in her eyes. He shook his head and gingerly planted a kiss to her lips. "Don't worry," he whispered into her ear. "I'll be back…"

Caught in his embrace, Anna found she didn't want to separate herself from him, as his arms and body delivered unworldly warmth. She found his tie and began to fiddle with it, hoping in the back of her mind that he would come back into bed with her, but soon, his arms released her hold on her, the cold air taking their place soon after. "Sergei…" she whispered as he stepped back from her, "Take care of yourself..."

They gave each other one last kiss before Sergei walked off.

**XxxxxxX**

SPETSNAZ, despite it being well beyond midnight, was up and about as they tried to remain up-to-date on the latest reports on the aircrafts. Some considered that it was nothing but an average flyover, while others were preparing to go on the defense. It was an overall mess in the building until their leader made his arrival.

As soon as he made his appearance, he made his way to the radio tower where they were currently keeping their eyes on the aircrafts. "There you are, Commander," a woman said, exasperated. "Please, this way." She led him to a screen which displayed the sights their overhead satellite caught and pointed out to him the four black jets which were barely visible in the night sky.

She zoomed in on them allowing Sergei a full view. At the sight of them, he narrowed his eyes. Without a doubt, these weren't typical planes intending to just fly over their country. These were bombers whose intention was to pull off an air raid. Quickly, Sergei called to attention his commanders and began giving them orders.

His top priority was to his people so his first command was for his former Department of Public Safety to notify the civilians of the possible attack. The task however would not prove to be easy as it was late and the majority of the population was locked in a deep sleep.

"Don't worry about it," his loyal lieutenant, Anton, saluted. "Markov and I will handle it." Sergei didn't doubt them. Since the incident that took place nearly a year ago, Sergei had come to realize that these two men had a way with the media and knew just what to do to deliver a message.

"I trust you." Sergei told them.

Following that order, he summoned the Department of Defense to get to their own planes and head towards the would-be terrorists. He wanted to prevent them from reaching Russia's heartland, knowing full well what kind of damage could be caused there. As this was a critical part in stopping them, Sergei himself would lead this brigade.

As for his final demand, he asked his Research and Development crew to study the planes and with any luck, gain some information on these terrorists. If anything was discovered they were to report to him immediately.

Once all orders were given, the team split up and Sergei was headed towards the skies.

**XxxxxxX**

Jin watched from his monitor, the approach of SPETSNAZ airplanes and narrowed his eyes. "So they saw us coming…"

"What should we do now, sir?" One of his soldiers, who stood idly by, asked.

Ignoring him, Jin continued to study the planes, particularly those who boarded it. Each man went unrecognizable in the two planes that lagged behind, but one man, who sat in the aircraft leading the team, could not have gone unnoticed. "Eradicate them and continue with our mission."

His subordinate gave a nod. "I'll go inform the others, sir."

When the door to the monitor room shut with a click, Jin continued to stare at the screen hosting the face of Sergei Dragunov. "The hero, the savior, the White Angel…" He muttered to himself. "That's what they call you, but I will show you what your true role is."

**XxxxxxX**

"They're approaching, sir!" The pilot called out to Sergei. "What do you want us to do?"

With his sharpened eyesight, Sergei managed to distinguish the oncoming aircrafts from the night sky and knew he had to make a move now. "Take their wings," he ordered. He knew that in taking down their wings, those aboard would be evacuating via parachute, allowing them to keep their lives. Sergei had made a promise not to take any more lives and for a year, he had kept that promise alive. He wasn't planning on breaking it anytime soon.

"Roger that, sir," the pilot responded. Together, the trio took aim at the approaching planes and shot at their target. However, at the same time, Sergei saw a bright light before him as his opponents were shooting back at him with their own missiles.

"Dammit…!" The pilot muttered as he tried to keep control of his plane. "They got us."

Reacting quickly, Sergei retreated to the back of the plane where they were storing excess power arms and retrieved a rocket launcher. Returning to the front, he stuck his body out the window and fired at the first plane he could see. His rocket had reached the appointed destination, breaking off the wing and causing the plane to tip off course.

However, the remaining four aircrafts were continuing to shoot at him and his vehicle, causing the plane to go haywire. Though his own plane was meant for fighting, they had been called to the fight in such haste that they were barely given time to equip themselves. The terrorists, it seemed, were planning on a fight and had all their weapons prepared. It was clear who had the upper hand in this.

Grabbing ahold of the pilot's wrist, Sergei gave him a tug, signaling for them to abandon the plane. Despite how much he wanted to continue fighting, the man reluctantly gave in and followed his superior. Just as they were about to descend, another missile hit them, this time blowing the gas tank and causing an explosion.

"Sergei!" The remainder of his team watched in terror as their leader was engulfed in flames...

Too stunned to continue on with their attack, they let the enemy planes fly by them as they watched the blast die down behind them. As it did so, a lone figure could be seen free falling. "That's Sergei," one of the soldiers pointed out. "We have to go catch him!"

The pilot bit his lip. It wasn't going to be easy turning this plane around with such short distance allowed. Suddenly, however, his worries were erased as a man's voice reached his ears. "Don't worry about him," the unfamiliar voice said through his headset, "We'll get him."

"Who…?" Through the sound of his own plane, the pilot managed to hear the buzz of propellers coming from below them. Peering over the edge, he caught sight of a helicopter with a man dangling at the end of their rope ladder.

**XxxxxxX**

Lars spotted Sergei's falling figure and began to swing, hoping that by the time they reached him, he would have enough momentum to grab him. "Don't get too close," Lars warned his pilot. If they did so, the Russian was bound to fall into the unforgiving propellers.

Eventually, Sergei's body fell down past the body of the helicopter and with perfect timing, Lars swung himself just far enough to grip his wrist. As of now, Sergei was nothing more than dead weight and Lars was slowly losing his hold. "Sergei!" He called out, hoping to awaken him. There was no response, causing the rebel leader to worry.

His team in the helicopter gradually began reeling them up until they were back on board. "Captain, are you alright," his force asked as they surrounded him and the unconscious Sergei.

Lars shook his head, "Don't worry about me. He needs medical attention right now."

As the few medics got to work on him, Lars began to hear a muffled voice emanating from Sergei. He looked him over and found that it was coming from his fallen earpiece. Quickly he picked it up and began speaking to it, halting the woman who spoke on the other end. "Listen," he demanded, "Are you currently at the SPETSNAZ headquarters?"

The woman who had been watching the dogfight from home base, although confused with the unfamiliar voice, replied, "Y-yes…"

"Take everyone and evacuate right away."

"What? Who are you?"

Ignoring her questions, Lars continued, "The Mishima Zaibatsu has targeted that building. You don't have much time." As the doctors were dabbing at Sergei's burns, he let out a cry as he woke from the pain. "Sergei," Lars whispered, tucking the earpiece away and getting to his side.

Dazed and confused, Sergei looked up at the unfamiliar faces that surrounded him, too tired and wounded to wonder who they were. "You're awake," he heard one of the doctors say. "Please remain calm; we're taking care of your burns."

Sergei didn't argue or fight as he was being tended to. He could hardly remember what had happened as only fragments from mere minutes ago played in his mind: His pilot, the explosion, and…the terrorists. Abruptly, he sat upright, throwing all medical pads and doctors alike off of him and looked at the soldiers that surrounded him. Suddenly, these uniforms were all too familiar to him.

"Lars…" He whispered.

Lars, who had been kneeling down at his right, placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded. "That's right Sergei. It's good to see you again."

**XxxxxxX**

"_This is a red alert. Evacuate headquarters right away. Repeat: Evacuate headquarters right away." _

Soldiers stared confusedly at the blaring red sirens that had ignited their building, wondering if this was a false alarm. However, as they watched the Research and Development crew coming running down from their position in the high tower, they decided it was best to follow the crowd.

"What's going on," one of the soldiers asked as he scurried to leave the premises with the others.

The woman, who had received the order from Lars, answered with a tremble in her voice, "It's the Mishima Zaibatsu. They've targeted us."

Within a few minutes, the SPETSNAZ headquarters was deserted as all of its soldiers and workers had regrouped to a location a few blocks away. They stared at their tall building, wondering what they had evacuated from. It was silent as they all waited. Then, it happened…

The sound of aircrafts broke the night's silence just before the sight of their building bursting into flames brightened the dark sky.

**XxxxxxX**

Jin, satisfied with the first bombing, leaned back in his seat as he awaited the grand finale. It was not merely enough to kill him. No, he had to erase him from this world. He destroyed SPETSNAZ to expunge a part of Sergei, yet some would mistake this action as Jin Kazama trying to get rid of any competition as it was another powerful military unit.

But now, the Dragunov mansion, if he were to destroy that, it would be clear that Sergei Dragunov was not wanted in this world. That _whoever_ posed a threat to Jin Kazama and his plans would be eradicated from existence and forgotten of completely.

"Everything that defines you, Sergei Dragunov, will be purged from this world. The only hero the people need is me…"

He watched as his planes reached their destination and remained indifferent as the bombs dropped down upon its unsuspecting guest. Whether Jin was oblivious to the fact that there was someone residing in there or not, his stoic façade had yet to crack.

In due time, that house, along with all the dreams and memories stored within, would become nothing more than a pile of ash…

**Author's Notes: And here you have it, Chapter Two. I hope you enjoyed! Yeah, I have no knowledge of military aircrafts so I apologize if their planes' weaponry didn't make sense. I'm going to be working on Christmas Fuss for the holidays now, so I can't promise a quick update. Thanks as always for reading and I'd like to know what you think. Oh, and have a Happy Thanksgiving!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It was gone. Everything. Sergei stared at the remnants of his home with a cold, empty stare. Not a single wall remained standing after the bombing and even if one had managed to survive, it would only be burnt down along with all his other belongings. Firefighters and police officers, after doing the most they could have, looked on at their hero, unable to imagine the pain that coursed through him. Lars as well swallowed a lump as he watched. He knew full well that losing the house wasn't the only thing hurting Sergei.

According to the cleanup crew, Anna Williams's body was not found within the debris.

"Sergei," Lars whispered. "I'm sorry."

No amount of words could ever hope to mend and stitch the wounds Jin's latest attack created. Sergei had been cut far too deeply and now only rage and anger poured out from the open wound. They flooded into his ears and mind, each of them whispering one word: Vengeance.

Sergei, as expected, didn't respond as his gaze, that had once held a light, remained set on the ashes at his feet. Words that he long pushed away returned, along with the man who spoke them to him.

"_Stop trying to change. Stop this futile attempt at trying to live a normal life. Stop deluding yourself."_ Mikhail's voice was all he could hear and as of now, he had never heard words more truthful. What was he thinking? Here he was, sacrificing himself for the sake of his people, trying to better the lives of others. But what was the result of that?

He clenched his fist. Had he stuck to his original life, none of this would have happened. It was his attempt to live a happy life that led to this: SPETSNAZ destroyed and more importantly, Anna taken from him. Beneath his scarred lips, Sergei's teeth clenched.

Forget the vows he made to purge his soul of sin. If he is to die a sinful man, so be it but not without taking Jin Kazama to hell with him.

Turning from the rubble, he walked away, brushing past Lars without even a second glance at the man.

Lars flinched at the aloofness he was shown, but before he would allow Sergei to walk off out of earshot, he whispered, "You're not the only one who's lost someone, Sergei." He turned around to look at Sergei's back, hoping he would receive a glance in return, any sign to show he was listening. When the Russian failed to acknowledge him, Lars narrowed his eyes and mumbled. "You better stop what you're thinking."

The mutter caught the soldier's attention and as hoped, Sergei stopped in his tracks and allowed a few seconds to look over his shoulder. Lars approached the raven-haired man until they were standing face-to-face. They looked one another in the eye but before a standoff was allowed, the Swede spoke coldly. "You kill Jin, and I'll make sure I give you a death ten times worse."

The Russian narrowed his eyes at the challenge delivered to him. "You still want to declare peace with him, after all he's done?" He clenched his fist. "How foolish could you be, to believe that to be possible?"

In a softer tone, Lars responded, "Too many lives have been lost to this so-called 'war.' Killing Jin would add his name to the death list, but it could never bring the battle to an end. The Mishima Zaibatsu will only retaliate, causing the world to hit back harder. In the end, it will only be an endless cycle."

"So why try," was Sergei's almost inaudible response. "What you're trying to protect are those animals who don't know how to live without fighting. Once they find peace, they'll shatter it by putting themselves into another senseless war."

At his rebuttal, Alexandersson flinched. "Is that what you call them? If I recall correctly, was it not those same _animals _you yourself risked your life for two years ago?"

"And no matter how hard I try, I can't protect them from their own instincts. If the world wants to fight the Mishima Zaibatsu, another country, or themselves, let them. What I want now is to give Anna the justice she deserves…"

Just as Sergei was prepared to walk away, Lars quickly stated, "And you won't be able to give her that if you kill him." Sergei stopped and looked back towards the young rebel leader. "Once you bloody your hands again, the person she fell in love with will disappear, and then who left on this world will carry on her memories?" Lars bit his lip as he recalled the locket that hung inside his armor. "You're the only one she ever got close to, the only one that shares her memories. And yet here you are, being ungrateful to her and erasing all those moments she cherished. How is that giving her justice?"

Before Sergei was allowed a moment to speak, Lars walked past him and grabbed out his cell phone. As he was holding it up to his ear, he glanced back at Sergei and with ice-encrusted words, he said, "If you can't carry her memories for her, then I'll do it. But when you die, I will not weigh my shoulders down with the White Angel of Death's sins."

**XxxxxxX**

Out in a cabin hidden among a surrounding of evergreens and snow, a mini television relayed last night's events to the public, the newscaster's voice coming out monotone through the outdated technology. The small screen filled with the images of the debris that was once the proud tower of SPETSNAZ and the pitiful ashes that had been the Dragunov Estate. The young reporter continued on to describe the horrific events that took place, concluding with the one "miracle" of the night.

"_Despite all the chaos, the complete destruction SPETSNAZ Headquarters, it is a marvel only one casualty took place…" _The screen brought up the image of a beautiful brunette, her face recognizable to all of Russia. _"Anna Williams, the love interest of Sergei Dragunov, was unfortunately caught in the second bombing…No remains were found for obvious reasons. As for Sergei Dragunov, who we believe to be the sole target of this attack, he has yet to be seen since last night. The…"_

As the television continued to play, a pile of blankets in an adjacent room began to squirm as the occupant lying beneath had aroused from her deep slumber. She was suffering from a dizzying headache, but despite the spinning walls she knew full well that this wasn't the usual house she was accustomed to waking up in. Placing her hand on her forehead, hoping to clear her mind, she tried to recall the latest events.

Sergei had been called in the middle of the night and after she had said goodbye, she went back to bed, but failed to fall asleep. It wasn't because of the concern she had for Sergei that kept her up but rather…

**XxxxxxX**

"_Take care of yourself…" _ Anna had told Sergei before he walked off. She had watched him descend into darkness until he was out of sight.

Retreating back into the comfort of her home, she descended the stairs back to her bedroom where her blankets, still warm from their bodies, awaited. Once her bathrobe was removed from her body, she slipped underneath the covers and wrapped herself in the warmth they held while all worries of Sergei, though not completely erased, were tamed.

"_He'll be fine," _she whispered to herself as she shut her eyes, Sergei's pillow being pulled into her chest.

However, after many minutes of lying awake, sleep never managed to reach her as she heard footsteps ascending the stairs. They were far too heavy to belong to Sergei and not only that, they seemed to be moving too slowly, as if they were on alert. Anna narrowed her eyes. He had to be some crafty and cunning thief to have the audacity to steal from the Dragunov Household.

When he was just outside her door, Anna shut her eyes, feigning sleep, and waited until he would begin digging through drawers to make her move. Except, her opportunity never came as she suddenly felt the bed shift from added weight and before she had time to react, she found that her arms were being pinned down from two strong hands.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at the intruder who hovered her and winced. _"Well, this is a surprise." _She whispered fearlessly. _"I'd prefer to be awoken by my lover, but I guess this could be interesting." _

All his features, aside from his eyes, were disguised by the darkness. His eyes seemed to glow their beautiful blue and had it not been for this unconventional meeting, Anna might refer to them as lovely. But here she was being pinned under this muscular man and the last thing she was concerned of was the color of his eyes.

With her legs free, she shoved a foot up towards his stomach, hoping to get him off, but her efforts proved fruitless as he failed to budge. Instead, it evoked a gentle chuckle from the man. _"My, aren't you the feisty one?"_

Removing one of his hands from her arms, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what Anna would distinguish to be a piece of cloth. He began moving the cloth towards her face but was met with resistance as the brunette landed an upward thrust towards his chin, momentarily distracting him and allowing her to slip from his grip completely.

She rolled off the mattress onto her feet, but failed to create any distance between them as she was yanked back hard by the arm. Regaining her footing, Anna found that her back was firmly pressed up against his chest as one of his arms wrapped around her stomach. In this position, Anna was able to feel how thick this man was. Everything she felt of him was like steel from his chest to his legs. She was positive if he had wanted to, he could snap her like a twig. How come she knew, that with a build like this, this man didn't want jewelry or gold but…

"_Sergei Dragunov, you really did choose a beautiful woman." _The man whispered more to himself than to her.

Anna scoffed. _How'd I guess?_

With a grin set on his lips, he planted the cloth over her mouth and nose, forcing the beauty to breathe in the toxins and chemicals it contained. Although Anna struggled to pry the cloth from her face, his one hand proved to be stronger than both of hers and soon the sleep that had long been waiting her took over and she fell limp in his arms.

**XxxxxxX**

Anna looked up from her hand and took another glance around the room. "And after that, he took me here," she mumbled, taking in the wooden walls and flooring.

Once she had forced herself up onto her feet, she masterfully wrapped the blanket around herself, creating a makeshift dress, and very slowly crept towards the open door. Peering out, she found herself looking at a very homey, comfortable living room setting. Lovely velvet armchairs sat by the crackling fireside along with a bear rug to complete the "cabin" feeling. The scene warmed her body until her eyes caught sight of the man who had stolen her from her bedroom.

For the moment, his back was turned towards her as he watched a tiny television which she had failed to notice from her view. He seemed oblivious to her awakening until he clicked off the screen and said, "Well good morning."

No point in hiding now, Anna stepped out of the room into plain view. With her arms crossed over her chest, she leaned back against the wall and with a cocky grin set on her lips, she said, "I hope you don't bring all women to your cabin like that."

Her sense of humor brought a grin to his face and he turned around to face his captive. "Only you," he responded back.

With him facing her now, Anna was allowed the chance to study her captor. He was a massive man, reaching a height of near seven feet with a build that consisted of only muscles built upon muscle. Forcing her eyes upward away from the intimidating physique, she was met with the man's well-built face. He possessed a facial structure others would risk money for; a strong jaw and fine-boned cheeks. But both attributes were put to shame when put in comparison to his beautiful blue eyes. They were so vibrant, glimmering even when there was no light around. Anna felt lured by them and forced herself to turn away.

Walking past the furniture, the man came into close contact with the brunette, his godly frame shadowing over hers while not even a foot separated them. With his right hand, he gently turned her chin upwards until he was looking into her eyes. "You sure talk big for someone in your position."

She smirked despite the feeling of insecurity that was creeping in on her. "Same goes for you."

The platinum blonde man raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh? And why do you say that?"

"You just kidnapped me from underneath Sergei's nose. Do you have any idea how deep of a grave you've dug for yourself?"

The man chuckled at her weak response. "Clearly, you haven't been keeping up on the latest news now have you?" At her confused reaction, he confirmed his suspicions. "You see, the mighty SPETSNAZ has fallen, destroyed in a single night by the ominous Mishima Zaibatsu. Their beloved leader, unable to save them because he is too busy mourning not only the loss of his house but his dear, sweet lover who was unfortunately caught in the bombing."

Anna narrowed her own piercing blue eyes. "What are you saying?"

His grin widened. "You," he said, placing a finger to her lips, "are supposed to be dead, reduced to ashes with the rest of your house."

She swatted his hand away. "You're lying."

"Why are you mad at me," he asked, noting the sharp gaze she pointed his way. "I'm not the Mishima Zaibatsu. I'm not Jin. If anything, I'm your savior. You should be thanking me for saving you."

"Well do me another favor won't you, and return me to my home."

He shook his head. "I can't do that, for two reasons." He held up one finger. "One, being the obvious, you have no home left. Unless that is, you wouldn't mind sleeping in a pile of rubble. Winters are pretty harsh here so I'd advise against that. As for two," another finger went up, "I simply can't."

Anna remained silent, her mind too troubled by the news to bother with interrogating. She had a feeling he would answer whatever question she had anyhow.

Ignoring her silence, the man continued speaking. "I'm sure you've added it up by now, that your purpose for being here is to lure in Sergei Dragunov."

She scoffed. "Yeah, you and a million others have the same idea. So why is it that you want to kill him? Revenge? Money? Power? Position? Have I named it yet?"

Stepping away from her, he locked his hands behind his back and turned around. The room went dead silent as the only sound to be heard was the flickering of the flames. After a few minutes of uneasy stillness, he spoke two words. "Mikhail Barclay."

**XxxxxxX**

Morning crept up on Russia as its citizens received hardly even a wink of sleep due to the bombings and alerts. Though not ungrateful, they did, however, find themselves wishing they had woken up in their warm beds than in a bomb shelter.

The door to the safety shelter was opened, allowing the morning sun to peek in, temporarily blinding those within like moles. Once their eyes adjusted to the light, they saw, standing at the entrance, a SPETSNAZ soldier. He looked exhausted, worn out from his own night of unrest, but still persistent on doing his job to his fullest today.

Once Markov had taken in the appearance of each citizen, making sure they were all well, he straightened himself and began giving them an update on last night's warnings. "We have secured the area and the trouble, for the time being, has passed though not without consequences. I'm sure you have all heard of the chaos that was caused, but…We'll handle it. We promise."

"But Dragunov, what about him?"

Markov stared at the young woman, who showed concern for the SPETSNAZ leader, then while clenching his fist, replied, almost regretfully, "He's…going to be gone for a while…But until the day he comes back, you'll still have the rest of us to protect you." The young soldier suddenly felt a grin reach his lips. "Don't think for a second SPETSNAZ is gone just because our headquarters was demolished. We'll protect you as we always have because that's the wish of our leader."

As the soldiers helped lead the people out so that they may return to their lives, Annessa, who had been accompanying Markov after he had awoken her last night, approached the blonde and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Markov…" she whispered, garnering his attention, "Is Sergei…Is he really alright? After what happened to Anna…I'm worried that he…" She didn't want to complete her question in fear of the answer.

Markov looked down at the young widow and rather than return to her a grim look, a gentle smile graced his features. Laying his own hands on her shoulders, he said, "After the bombings last night, Sergei called me and Anton. He told us to look after everyone because he was going to go away…I haven't the slightest of what he plans to accomplish, and though I do fear a little, I have faith that what he plans to do will not cause him to sway from the path he has chosen."

**XxxxxxX**

After helping the cleanup crew with the fires and debris, Yggdrasil decided it was time for them to depart. They all seemed exhausted though not from the labor they performed all night but from once again having to admit defeat. As usual, they failed to stop Jin…

Lars as well had seemed in a darker mood, more so than when he lost his lieutenants. He had yet to speak to them of anything, even regarding future plans.

"Captain," one of his soldiers spoke up. "You should stop beating yourself up. You saved the entire Russian military, all of SPETSNAZ. That has to count for a victory in some way. It's true that one life was lost, but compared to what may have happened…"

Lars stopped and looked back at the hopeful soldier then shook his head. "I could've saved one more… But I failed and let his life slip through my hands…" Lars recalled the harsh words he had spouted at his friend, forgetting the position he was in. The man had just lost everything. Even if Jin were to declare peace and atone for all that he has caused, Sergei would still have no home to return to and no lover to greet him. To have expected him or any man for that matter, to remain strong in such a time was selfish of him. And now, he feared his words only opened the gateway that was keeping the beast in.

After the team had lazily slogged back to their helicopters, they were greeted with their three allies who had remained back to track Jin's next move. Upon seeing their captain, they immediately rose from their sitting positions and made their way to him. "Sir," they shouted and hollered all at once. "We have someone who wants to talk to you."

Unless it was Jin Kazama, Lars couldn't care less. He pushed past his soldiers with no sense of enthusiasm and proceeded to approach the helicopters. Just when he was a few feet from one of them, a man, his supposed guest, appeared at the doorway.

The two men met glances, but neither spoke a word. After a battle of icy blues against muddy hazel, the Yggdrasil team watched on in complete silence as Sergei Dragunov turned away and whispered the answer to the question Lars had been prepared to ask.

"Two years ago, you told me that I would always have a place to call home in Yggdrasil… Does that still remain true?"

Lars walked up to him and looked him up and down, as if assuring himself it were not a ghost speaking. Once he was finished, he extended his hand. "Always, Sergei."

Looking over the extremity presented to him, the Russian slowly accepted. The two hands clasped, renewing their bond of friendship. "Welcome home," the Swede whispered.

**A/N: Finally! Chapter Three! This story, I swear, is really just writing itself now. I promise it'll get better, or at least I hope. Though I must admit, I'm enjoying my new baddie and I have so many ideas for his background story, I just can't settle on one. Hence the reason why his section ended the way it did. Thank you for reading and please leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

As the helicopter's propellers sliced through the grey clouds hanging above Russia, Lars' crew remained in an awkward silence as all their suspicion was cast towards one person. They had their doubts of his intentions and whether he shared the same goals as their captain, but although they shared the same thoughts, none had the courage to voice it.

Lars, who had dully noted his teammates' behaviors, decided that now was not the time to ignore the elephant in the room. He glanced over at the dark-haired Russian seated in the corner and very casually, asked, "I'm sure we are all wondering this Sergei so I will ask on behalf of myself and my team; is there more to you being here than just having a place to call home?"

Relieved that the question was now out in the open, all eyes shifted to the man as the soldiers awaited his answer. He gave none.

Lars, understanding that Dragunov had yet to mourn, decided not to push him any further. At this point, he was sure he wasn't thinking straight and he feared the answer they were anticipating at the moment wouldn't be the answer they wanted. Let him clear his mind, he thought, and then we'll get his true response.

"Regardless of your intentions," the Swede spoke, shattering the silence that had once again filled the helicopter, "you are now a part of Yggdrasil, which makes me your captain. My orders come first." The words fell out of his mouth with irregularity. Never had he had to use the "I am your captain" excuse before and in doing so now, he felt himself redden. Of course, though they didn't say, his flushed cheeks failed to go unnoticed by his crew who gave him a gentle smile in return.

As Sergei sat in silence, the grief, sorrow, and anguish finally took its toll and exhaustion was reaching its peak. With his forearms resting on knees, he slumped over and found himself fighting with his body's desire to sleep. Although none would disagree that sleep is what he needed at the moment, he knew that as soon as he fell asleep, nightmares would plague him. Even now when he was awake, the slightest blink would cause him to see Anna.

He felt a tingle run down his spine as her name resonated throughout his mind. He clenched his pants as he suddenly felt his throat tighten from an unfamiliar feeling welling up inside him.

The others spotted his struggle but found that they could do nothing to help. So they watched as Sergei Dragunov shed a tear for his beloved. At the sight of the White Angel of Death crying, Lars passed him a gentle smile and whispered almost inaudibly, "Let it out…"

**XxxxxxX**

That was the last name Anna wanted to ever hear again. So desperate to convince herself that the name had not escaped her captor's mouth she feigned deafness. "I didn't quite catch that."

The monstrous blonde gave a grim ear-to-ear grin as he turned back to look at her. Her face had betrayed her as he could spot the fear welling up in her eyes. "You heard me." He stalked over to her like a predator admiring his freshly caught meat, his gaze never leaving her. Running his hands down along her arms with gentility, he whispered, "You remember Barclay, don't you?"

The real question was how could she forget? With all the damage he caused to Sergei and Russia, she was positive the whole motherland remembered him. And, recalling the psychotic nature he had, Anna timidly glanced up at the man towering over her and feared what sort of state _his_ mind was in to be associated with Mikhail. Sergei just had a knack for attracting the insane didn't he?

Pulling the mask over her face once again, Anna toughened her features and forced a haughty smirk onto her lips. "Last I heard of him, he was at Sergei's mercy, begging for his pitiful life."

In response to her reply, the man returned her smirk with a grin of his own. "So he was, was he?" He chuckled then slowly shook his head disappointedly at her, her smile slowly fading away. "Who are you trying to convince?"

Gripping his hands, Anna forced him away from her, a scowl on her face. Little did she know, her little burst of anger only succeeded in amusing him even more. "Does it matter," she spat back at him. "He's dead either way."

The man nodded in agreement to her comment which only added to Anna's frustration. She knew he was playing along with her, toying with her so that she felt she was in control. "Very true. And for that reason, you think I want to avenge my fallen comrade, do you?" He raised an eyebrow at her as he awaited her answer. Yet upon spotting the annoyed look she passed in his direction, he could already expect no response to arrive so he let his own features sharpen as he answered in a steel-cold voice, "Then you are a stupid woman."

Anna had been called worse – much worse – but for some odd reason this little comment had managed to get under her skin and fiddle with her nerves. She felt her nails digging into her palm as she fought the urge to land a blow onto his chiseled face. Despite how muscular the rest of his body may be, his face was no stronger than hers. Yet, she made an effort to calm herself, her body was far more fragile than his and in making him mad, her goals to see Sergei again would vanish in a flash. So, she unclenched her fists.

Soon, she was back up against the wall as he returned to his earlier position; hovering over her, his body separated from hers by a mere millimeter. He stared down at her with those mesmerizing blue eyes which made Anna feel even more suffocated as they gave the illusion of him being even closer to her; as if he were in her.

"Mikhail and I, we understood each other. Almost as well as real brothers." The man began to speak, his tone low and hardly above a whisper. And despite his hands roaming over her shoulders and arms, Anna found herself paying very close attention to his words. "We were both taken under Aleksander's wing and trained to be the perfect soldiers. We both had our inner demons and our pasts, but we differed in one major way."

At this, his lips curled upwards, revealing the tips of his canines. "Unlike me, Mikhail never knew what it was like to be alive. His entire life he played the host for his mother's vengeful spirit, always doing things to satisfy her while his own desires were never quenched. That's what made him weak and in this world, there is no place for a man like him. But then Sergei came along and brought Mikhail to life; brought out the strength Mikhail had within." He ran a hand almost lovingly down Anna's cheek, his face nearing hers. "Don't you see? The man is an angel, one of God's own messengers." He smirked. "And I, Macaulay Karenbach, want to pluck the angel of its wings."

His eyes became darker which brought Anna to the realization that in spite of his looks and sense of calm and control, he was far more psychotic – more dangerous – than Mikhail could ever be. She could see in his eyes all the years-worth of hate built up, the desire to kill and maim. Then, she became conscious of the little space that separated them. She turned away from him, hoping to avoid his gaze, but the hand that gripped her chin returned her to him. "Sergei will come for you, don't you worry and until then, I promise to keep you safe…"

Before Anna was given the opportunity to argue, struggle, or even comprehend what he meant, she found herself caught in a kiss that was empty and devoid of any warmth…

SPETSNAZ was the first feather plucked, his mansion the second. Adding herself as the third, Anna wondered how many feathers Sergei would have left by the time he reached her.

**XxxxxxX**

"Captain, we've got a read on Kazama's location," the pilot called back from his seat.

All crew members aboard the plane glanced at one another before ultimately landing their gaze on Sergei who still insisted on remaining silent. He felt all their eyes on him and he knew what they were all thinking. His rage had long diminished to sorrow which was just now turning into a resolution. The words Lars had spoken back at his fallen home had finally had the time to sink in thoroughly.

"_Once you bloody your hands again, the person she fell in love with will disappear, then who will carry on her memory?"_

Sergei had a duty to her and to the people who were living today. If he gave up now, what would be the point then of those two years he spent renewing himself? His business with Jin ran deeper than a personal hatred now. If he allowed Jin to continue with his actions, he might as well be killing all those people himself.

Upon seeing Lars' face within the reflection of the window, he whispered, "I'll do what I can to help. But I cannot promise what will happen to Jin if I confront him alone."

His long awaited answer seemed to relieve the tension in the room as nearly half of the soldiers let out a sigh of relief. They were glad to know they weren't going to be working alongside a trigger-happy lunatic.

Lars gave a nod in his direction. "We'll make sure you're never alone then." Knowing him, Sergei was sure he purposely stated that to have two different meanings. With renewed vitality, he switched his attention to the pilot and asked, his tone serious, "Do we know his target?"

"Apparently some politician named Benedict Karloff," the hacker up in front called back, his fingers typing vigorously on his laptop. "An old British fellow he is, moved to Russia back when he was in his twenties and given ownership of Karenbach Corporations twenty-four years ago."

"Odd, considering that he doesn't even share the family name," Lars commented. "What exactly does Karenbach Corporations do?"

As the computer expert went typing away, it was Sergei who answered Lars' question in the meantime. "They're a medical-based company; producing medicines and steroids that enhance body, beauty, and health." They were constantly being under the radar, the government always making sure they were performing their practices within legal premises. Sergei, as well, kept them under a watchful eye in the hopes of preventing the same exercises that took place in SPETSNAZ's basement and to Anna while in Dr. Abel's hands.

"Yeah," the hacker added, "and along with that, get this: Apparently, the former president and vice president, a Mr. and Mrs. Karenbach, kicked the bucket at the same time, both of them committing suicide."

"Nothing surprising there," the Swede said. "They must've been going under or as I suspect, caught red-handed doing dirty business."

"But then why did they give up their company, along with all their fortune, to Karloff, who, from my resources, had no relation to them whatsoever and leave nothing, not even street change, for their two children?"

At this, Lars widened his hazel eyes. "Is that true?"

The rebel nodded. "Yeah. They had two tots; a Macaulay and Rozalia Karenbach, ages eight and four at the time of their parents' deaths." There was a slight pause as he continued digging through their files. "Strange thing is there's not a single record as to what happened to them afterwards. Their names aren't listed under any school and since they had just recently lost their parents, shouldn't they have been put into an orphanage?" He scratched his head. "It's like they just disappeared off the face of the planet."

"Regardless of what happened, this definitely makes Benedict Karloff quite the sketchy character. A common trait shared by all of Jin's victims." Lars took a quick peek at Sergei, hoping he hadn't caught that, but when the Russian didn't return any hard glances, he assumed all was well. "Alright," he continued, "Can we intercept him in time?"

"For once Captain, I don't see that as a problem," the pilot called back cheerily. "We're only a few hours from the target's home and Jin has yet to reach the country."

"How can we assume Jin won't pull off another bombing attempt as he had done last time?" One of the soldiers asked, insecurity lacing his words.

"Jin wants to make this man's death personal, hence the reason why he labeled only him as a target. As in Sergei's case, he had marked the entire SPETSNAZ army along with their leader. There must have been different reasons behind that attack than just delivering his form of 'justice.' This attack will be like his prior ones, I'm sure of it."

With so much determination in his voice, Sergei found it hard to disprove Lars' allegations. So, just like the rest of his crew, he put his trust in the man and listened as he began discussing their plans to save Benedict Karloff and hopefully capture Jin in the process.

**XxxxxxX**

Seated in a fine, handcrafted armchair, an older man, who could stand to lose a few hundred pounds, lay back comfortably as a maid delivered to him a tray of assembled cakes and tea. God knows he was the last one to need such sweets but nonetheless, he devoured it all before the maid had yet to step out of the room.

At a glance, one couldn't tell what shined more; his bald head or the countless gold rings that adorned each of his chubby fingers? His round body was clothed in a well-tailored suit; white, pristine, and crisp. Very classy.

Looking at the room he sat in, one could clearly see he was a man made of money. The floors lined with the finest of marble, the fireplace custom-made to accommodate the grand painting that was hung above it; a painting of yours truly. Expensive antiques sat on every spot available and even a few exotic plants, which had never been seen by even the most fanatical botanists, earned a spot in the corners. However, although there were many items to be seen in this one room, there was yet to be a single portrait aside from the oil painting above the fireplace. It was safe to say, this glutton was no family man.

After having devoured the cake slice and ironically taking gentle sips from his attractive teacup, he glanced over at the maid who was just barely turning the corner to the kitchen and called, "Ah and Vanessa, about the picture in the loft…"

Reluctantly, the maid stopped in her tracks and appeared in the doorway again. "What about it, sir?"

Suddenly, anger contorted his once calm facial features and he slammed his fist down upon the table, splashing the remnants of his tea against the luxurious carpet and sofa. "I want it gone! Why is it so hard for you to do one simple task?"

Narrowing her eyes at the bald man, the maid ignored his rude comments and muttered grumpily, "Very well."

After having made her way up to the loft which now served as a guest room, Vanessa approached the nightstand where a small picture frame sat. Gingerly, she picked it up and stared at the family portrayed in it. They were a picture-perfect family; a beautiful mother, handsome father, and two lovely children. So beautiful the picture was it felt almost sinful to destroy it. Yet, Vanessa proceeded to slip the photo from its frame, her feelings for the family numb after all the many other portraits she had shredded, tossed, and even burned. Being that this one was small, she was sure ripping it up then tossing it would suffice.

Just as she was prepared to tear it up, the doorbell's chime echoed throughout the household, stopping her in her actions. Knowing Karloff, he was bound to blow a fuse if she didn't get the door ASAP. Releasing a sigh, she made a dash for the door, the portrait held in between her fingers.

After brushing away wisps of hair that had fallen out of place due to her rush, she proceeded with opening up the heavy door. When it was fully opened, she came face-to-face with two men, one of whom she was quite familiar with. "S-Sergei Dragunov…" In her surprise, the picture obliviously slipped from her hand and landed delicately among their feet.

Although gone unnoticed by the maid, Sergei had watched as the portrait fell, his eyes following its path all the way down. "C-can I help you, sir," Vanessa proceeded, glad that her mind had found the right words to say.

"Actually," Lars began, cutting right to the chase, "we were wondering if a Benedict Karloff was in. And if so, we need to speak to him right away."

Glancing between the two, she was unsure of their purpose, but as her eyes landed back on Sergei, she knew she shouldn't deny his orders and immediately turned on her heel to race back to her boss. "Yes, if you'll follow me."

Lars obeyed and proceeded to walk in but stopped after having taken his fifth step in. He noticed his footsteps were the only ones to be heard. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted Sergei down on one knee picking up the fallen portrait. "What is it?"

While studying the picture in the frame, Sergei rose to his full height, his eyes running over the family who smiled back at him. They were perfect and he wondered if this was the sort of family he and Anna could have made together. He bit down on his lip as he felt a familiar twang of pain hit him. Refusing to let his emotions take over now, he slipped the photo into his jacket and shook his head at Lars who was watching him intently. "It's nothing…" He muttered as he walked past.

**XxxxxxX**

What sat before Sergei and Lars was their very image of sin. Either that or a slug with human appendages. When their hacker had spoken of Benedict Karloff, he failed to mention his atrocious appearance which was now causing the two men to stare rather rudely at their supposed host.

As Benedict switched his glance between his two uninvited guests, his teeth clenched together just as tightly as his fists were, he broke the unsettling silence as he snarled as Sergei, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Surprising both Sergei and Lars, and possibly even the maid, the man got to his feet and pointed a pudgy finger at them. "You have no right to be in my home and I see no reason why I shouldn't kick you out right now."

"On the contrary," Lars interrupted gently, "I believe we have very just reasons to be here and though I do believe you have every right to force us out of your home, this mansion is not yours so therefore I don't see us leaving anytime soon."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Despite his attempt to keep in his threatening character, Sergei could hear the fear building up in his voice, like a child trying to lie after being caught red-handed. "This mansion was granted to me along with my business. And besides," he shifted a frantic glare towards Sergei, "don't you have something bigger to deal with than me?"

Before he could muster out another word, he found himself staring at Sergei's pistol. Vanessa, realizing the situation, let out a little shriek and prepared to dash off until Lars gripped her arm. In a kind voice, he said, "If you know what's good for you, you'll return to your home and never speak of this event to anyone. And also, you would be wise to make sure no one comes near this house within the next 24 hours. Understood?"

She gave a weak nod and Lars gently released her arm. Taking one last look at the scene that had unfolded before her, she spotted the apologetic look Sergei passed her and soon her worries were whisked away. She smiled back at him and whispered, "I trust you" before running off.

Once she was out the front door, Sergei turned his attention back to the parasite of a man and said, "Get down."

"What!?" The man hollered. "Why?!" Despite his arguments, he lowered himself onto his belly as he met Sergei's icy glare.

After Sergei cuffed Karloff's hands together, Lars returned from the front yard and nonchalantly placed his foot down upon the fat man's back. "The helicopter's here," he told Sergei, "But…" His eyes traveled down to the hefty man below him. "You think it can carry him?"

**A/N: Ugh! Finally! I apologize for being so slow with this update. I've been having quite the hectic life lately but I'm back on track. I don't like the idea of Sergei "crying" but it just didn't seem realistic to lose the love of your life and then move on so quickly so I had to put in some kind of mourning scene. And although this story's main character should be Sergei, Lars kinda' stole the stage this time didn't he? Apologies. Thank you for all the kind reviews; they were the fuel I needed to finish this chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**A/N: Yeah, I changed the title so I apologize if it threw a few of you off. "Shattered Dreams" just seemed so bland and obvious; I wanted a title that was as strong as "Call of the Bluebird" – something that would make it sound worthy to be its successor. Also, I do apologize once again for the slow update and I can't promise they'll be coming any quicker since I'm now working on my new Soul Calibur fic. Anyways, I hope this chapter was worth waiting for and thanks for choosing to read! Enjoy!**

As nighttime made its arrival, Russia made its descent into slumber as all the city lights began to shut down, allowing the stars above to show their true shine. It was a beautiful night – perfect for moon gazing – and it would almost seem a waste if one were to sleep through it. Fortunately for the Red Rebel Army, they were going to stay up all night and enjoy the peaceful night scene…Or, at least that's what they told themselves to better their current situation.

Sitting in one of their helicopters, four crew members surrounded the hefty politician who Sergei and Lars were supposedly "saving." They were given direct orders to guard him and make sure Jin would not learn of their whereabouts. Easier said than done. The Briton, since his capture, had been spouting curses towards the crew at the top of his lungs. Had there been any form of life near them, it had long left the area to enjoy its night elsewhere.

One of the men held his hand out towards a fellow crewmate and asked, "Duct tape?"

The computer expert deposited the thick roll of adhesive into his waiting hand and watched as he began unrolling a good foot of tape from it. After tearing it, the man held the sticky substance between his fingers and slowly moved towards Karloff. Of course, Karloff was no fool and had long seen what was coming when they had gone on a search for the accursed item. Therefore, it was no surprise when he had decided to put up a struggle when the tape was nearing his mouth.

"Back away," he yelled, turning his head away at blinding speed. "If you even think of putting that on my face, I'll sue you for every penny you're worth."

"Feel free," the soldier played along aloofly, "Take the little money I own. In fact," he tucked his hand into his armor's compartment and pulled out a few coins and bills, tossing them into the man's face, "I'll spare you the paperwork."

Stunned by the fighter's cold actions, Karloff was, for once, at a loss of words as he stared at the coins that rolled and clattered against the steel panel below him. During this moment of rare serenity, the man with the tape made another attempt to shut his mouth, but was once again met with resistance, causing the tape to stick to his forehead.

Releasing a sigh, the man whispered, "Hold still won't you?" He peeled the adhesive from his skin, leaving a red mark, "You're lucky you're bald."

After many curses later, the tape was finally well-secured over his mouth, muting his words though not completely silencing him. His muffles still filled the air, but it was much more preferable than the raucous he was causing earlier. For extra measure, they continued to apply layer after layer, making sure that even if his hands were to be freed, it would still prove to be a challenge to free his vocal restraints.

"Much better…" The soldiers sighed with relief and settled down into their seats while Benedict continued to squirm about on the floor.

The computer expert, a young man who went by the name Frantz, picked up the cash dropped by his colleague and handed it back to him, an almost hopeless smile on his face. "You really do need to control your temper, Max."

Maximilian – or "Max" – accepted his money and returned it to its spot underneath his gear. Afterwards, he returned his gaze back towards Karloff and with dismal eyes, he whispered to his team, "It's people like these that make me wonder why we try to stop Jin…" His comment caused the others to raise their eyebrows at him, yet their surprised reactions went unnoticed by him. "Our world is headed towards the path of self-destruction because we allow people like him to have the power…Why save these people? They've already lost their humanity, what's there left to save?"

The others swapped suspicious glances with one another, a wave of unease having washed over them. Maximilian was one of Lars' closest comrades, both of them knowing each other from the early days of Lars beginning this whole rebellion. Though Lars' friendship with his two lost lieutenants, Tougo and Jane, extended further back than their own, the rest of the team always found that the two communicated like brothers. Perhaps it was also due to their shared features that they were easily mistaken as siblings; sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, a height of around six feet, and some even guessed they shared the same weight.

One would think that after traveling and fighting alongside one another for so long, Lars' dreams and ideals would have rubbed off on Maximilian. Perhaps that showed just how strong Jin's presence was. He was able to persuade even the most strong-willed of men to see through his eyes…

**XxxxxxX**

The house was dark, all the lights having been turned off to feign a residence with sleeping occupants. Sergei and Lars sat quietly in the dark, the only sound to escape them being their breathing. They had been patiently awaiting their adversary's arrival since dropping off Benedict to their comrades and now, as the clock ticked into the wee hours of the night, there had yet to be a sign of him.

The two hadn't spoken since returning to their positions and although it would have been awkward for another pair, when one was with Sergei Dragunov, such silence was expected. Yet despite how comfortable Sergei may be in this sort of hush, Lars had his mind filled with words of which he wished to speak.

He looked over at the Russian standing across the room from him, his figure being easily mistaken as a statue, and then whispered, "About what I said back at your home, I'm sorry." Letting the words sink in, Sergei slowly raised his eyes to meet his friend's as he continued to speak. "My words had been carelessly chosen… And I of all people should know how it feels to lose someone…"

Though Sergei had never asked, the absence of his two lieutenants had caused him to wonder of their whereabouts, but upon hearing Lars' words now, his suspicions were confirmed and strangely enough, he felt that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach again. He hardly knew them, their names and faces being the only thing he can really use to discern them from everyone else in the world. Yet at the same time, in the brief span of time he had spent with them, he felt he had come to learn just about everything about them.

They were people just like him; they were striving to live, trying to pursue their dreams even if the world was against it. They were a jumble of emotions, displaying fear and worry, anger and hatred. But when the clouds had cleared, they were laughing and smiling… They were torches that stood out in the rain, always trying to keep alight despite the odds against them. And somehow, during the short span of time they spent together, they had found their way underneath Sergei's skin.

"I keep telling myself that they knew what they were getting themselves into when they joined me," Lars said, interrupting his thoughts, "But at the same time, I feel like I was supposed to protect them because… they were my family…" With a weak smile on his lips, he swept his fingers over his chest, over the lion embroidered on his chest. "When this was all over, I wanted to return back home and settle down like you had. Make a family… But not anymore… Not without them."

It was probably the first time Sergei had ever seen the Swede appear so hopeless and melancholic. The image didn't seem right and he was forced to turn away. But to show his actions were not out of disdain, he whispered, "There's no need for you to start a family when you already have... all of us…"

Although he still had his eyes focused on the oil painting above the fireplace, Sergei could already imagine the look Lars had on his face. He was sure it was the definition of pure shock as he was probably the last person Lars expected to receive encouraging words from. But then he heard a gentle chuckle emanate from his throat. "You're right," the sandy blonde responded, "I sure did gather myself a clan of brothers didn't I?"

Just as the tension between them had finally loosened, the air around them had decided to shift. Although it was faint, a gentle hum of a stealth helicopter could be heard, alerting the two men of their target's arrival. Tossing aside any emotions from their latest conversation, the two shifted their personality into one suited for combat.

Touching his communicator to his ear, Lars contacted the squad he had assembled around the perimeter. "This is Lars," he said, "Do you have a visual on Jin?"

"Yes Captain," the soldier on the other end responded. He had been watching the scene through his sniper lens as he lay flat on his stomach. "He's landing his helicopter as we speak. Do you have any orders?"

"Stay at your positions," Lars ordered calmly, "And when Jin enters, take out any remaining soldiers. Sergei and I will handle Jin inside."

"Yes sir."

After shutting his communicator off, Lars looked over at Sergei and whispered, "He's here. Are you ready?"

Sergei gave a nod in his direction as he heard the helicopter descend to the ground through the window behind him. Through the thin curtain veil he was able to see a few people empty out onto the mansion's lawn. Though they were nothing more than silhouettes at the moment, Sergei, with his sharp eyes, was able to distinguish Jin Kazama among the others.

He alone stood tall with a confident air while the harsh winds picked up his trench coat and caused it to billow against his frame. He proceeded towards the mansion and Sergei wondered as he watched if Lars' prediction on the young man's actions would prove to be accurate; that he would be entering this household alone to deliver his "justice." From what he could see, he still had two soldiers accompanying him. Whether it was only to the front door, he could not tell as they disappeared from his view as they reached the entrance.

With the foreboding mansion hovering high above him, and the doorway leading in right before him, Jin stopped on the welcome mat and took the doorknob into his firm grasp. Upon feeling the way it easily rotated, his eyes narrowed. It was unlocked and surely a man who had a target on his back wouldn't forget the simple task of locking a door each night. No, this had Lars' name written all over it.

Turning to his soldiers who stood to the left and right of him, he ordered calmly, "Stay here. And tell the others to search the perimeters."

His soldiers nodded knowing full well what Jin was suspicious of. The Swede was a crafty one but also a constant thorn in their side. He and his little band of rebels could easily be overpowered by the might of the Mishima Zaibatsu yet why Jin never took the opportunity to do so, was beyond them. Once they nodded and took their positions, Jin opened the door and disappeared inside.

Upon hearing his footsteps against the wooden floorboards, Sergei and Lars waited with bated breath as the steps neared their location. After a few seconds, the third presence had entered the room and behaving as if this was a planned meeting, the three acknowledged each other.

"I should have known that you would be here," Jin said nonchalantly, fixing his gaze upon Lars' form, "but you…" He turned that cold empty stare of his towards Sergei. "I thought I broke you."

Those words had become all too familiar to Sergei as he had recalled them being spoken to him from another man. Yet from the way that man in the past said it in comparison to how Jin said it now differed on many different levels. Between him and Mikhail, Mikhail had shared a bond with him as their minds had once shared the same thoughts while their hearts dwelled in the cold depths of loneliness. Jin on the other hand, Jin had no right to touch his life; to make any attempt to engrave his name along the road Sergei walked. Yet he butted his way in like a pest, stealing the one thing he treasured most…

Sergei felt his jaw clench at the memory of Anna and that vengeful voice in his head began speaking again. He found himself taking a step towards him, but then Lars, who had managed to become his sensible side, spoke. "I wouldn't anger him further, Jin," he advised. "I am the only one standing between you two and if you insist on fulfilling a death wish, I will gladly step aside."

Though it was likely Jin was unaffected by the threat, he remained quiet as Lars began approaching him, his fingers on his gun and prepared to draw if it proved to be necessary. "Jin…I think it's time we end it here."

"So you do," Jin acknowledged. "But I must ask how you think you will accomplish your goal. Do you truly believe this will all be over simply by my capture and containment? You have the entire Mishima Zaibatsu left and with no leader, what do you think will happen?"

Lars' eyes read uncertainty and he faltered in his movements. "So what are you saying? That you will refuse to surrender even when the odds are against you?"

Ignoring his question, Jin simply stated, "I will go with you if that is what you want. But let me remind you that the odds are never against me." Peering at the Swede, Jin whispered with a smirk on his lips, "God wants me to better this world. When you stand against me, you are standing against God. So I ask you, why go to such lengths to defy Him?"

With renewed confidence, Lars replied, "I do not do this to defy God. I do this to build a new era. An era where the likes of the Mishima Zaibatsu will fade into history; where the cursed bloodline we share doesn't have to lead into this constant cycle of war and violence that is our family history. An era where you can watch your son grow up without him having to fear his future responsibilities. If you truly believe you are following God's will by creating all this bloodshed, then God has no interest in your happiness or future."

Bullets flying through the air shattered the once peaceful night air. Being accustomed to the sound of guns firing, the three failed to become startled by the noise and Sergei, who hadn't moved from his position, peered out the window and saw that the members of the Mishima Zaibatsu were becoming confused by the sudden fall of their allies.

One by one they began falling to the bullets which seemed to be coming from out of nowhere, and Lars, upon noticing this, motioned towards the outside. "Do you see what you've created?" He addressed to Jin, "Out there are men who have all been dealt their share of pain. The only ones who will ever understand the hurt man feels is fellow man. And yet here they are, killing the only beings on this world who will ever understand them."

**XxxxxxX**

By the time Lars' soldiers had eradicated any threat, Lars and Sergei, with Jin now in custody, began heading out. Passing the fallen soldiers, Sergei recalled the Swede's words and felt a twang of pity upon finding that his words rang true. Without having even known them, Sergei knew what each of them must have been thinking before their life's flame was blown out.

"Don't pity them too much, Sergei Dragunov," he heard Jin speak. Pulling his eyes away from the corpse of the soldier before him, he looked at Jin who was walking ahead of him. "After all, they were the ones who took _her_ from you was it not?" Though the words were cold, Sergei failed to find himself offended as Jin's voice reflected a dead man's.

Casting his eyes downwards to the floor he walked, Sergei continued the trek to the helicopter which held Benedict Karloff. Along the way they joined up with the snipers who had been successful in their assignment and at the sight of Jin finally in their custody, they nearly gawked. Their hard work had finally paid off but then why did their commander appear so melancholic? They decided it best not to ask and in silence they made their way to the helicopter's position.

Clicking on his communicator, Lars alerted Maximilian and the others stationed at the plane to prepare for their arrival.

Maximilian, who was currently enjoying the peace brought on by the duct tape, answered, "Alright. And the mission; how was it?"

There was an untraditional silence returned by his captain. Lars took a glance back over his shoulder at his nephew and whispered back, "We have Jin, if that's what you want to know." Before Maximilian could return an answer, Lars cut him off abruptly. "I'll discuss things later. See you until then."

By the time they made it back to the helicopter, the team nervously led Jin to the helicopter where he very casually treated it like his own. Compliantly, he settled down on one of the vacant seats while Yggdrasil surrounded him, each of them passing questioning gazes towards one another. Noticing their gazes without having to truly look at them, Jin asked, "Are you finally realizing just how foolish your ideals are? To have thought that you could turn the tides of this war by my simple capture, you've become as blind as your commander."

While the others were inside watching over their captive, Sergei and Lars remained outside, both of them having long been suspicious of Jin's "capture" from the moment he entered the Karenbach household.

"He's doing this on purpose," Lars muttered, a grim look etched onto his features, "He's going through all of this just to prove to me that he's God's chosen one; that because God wants him alive, he'll make it out of this unscathed. But what he doesn't know is that I would never hurt him."

Up until now, Sergei had never understood why Lars insisted on "declaring peace" but upon seeing the bond they shared, it made sense now. If Lars were to ever have any hand in ending Jin's life, it would be no different that slitting the throat of his own brother. Somewhere in Lars' heart, he still believed Jin was his family. "Let him believe whatever pretty lie he wants," Sergei whispered back, "He can believe that God will save him, but for me, there was never a God. The only being I see saving him is you."

**XxxxxxX**

He had been gone for hours now and Anna was positive his extended leave was only to mock her. He knew that while he was away, she would try to make an escape or contact the outside but he had known both were preventable.

With the snow in these shaded woods reaching up to her knees, even if she did know which direction town was in, she would be fortunate if only her legs had to be amputated due to frost bite by the time she reached civilization. She knew Sergei loved her legs so that was out of the question.

As for communicating to the outside world, that too also proved to be impossible. There was a phone but it failed to have any source of connection. Anna was sure he hadn't disposed of it only to bring her hopes up. Little did he know, Anna hadn't expected it to be in working order anyhow. Aside from the phone, there was also a handheld radio which, unlike the phone, seemed to be functioning. Anna had recalled various movies she had seen as a child in which you could use radios to communicate, but try as she might, the only thing she could succeed in was changing the channel which only led to more sounds of static.

Discarding any ideas of escape, the brunette decided that her first plans should have been focused on finding some clothes. Since her arrival she had been using a blanket as a dress and though she didn't mind walking around nude, the last thing she wanted to do was arouse her captor.

She returned to the room she had found herself waking up in and turned her attention to the closet she had failed to notice before. With slender fingers, she pulled open the closet's symmetrical wooden doors to reveal the rack-full of clothes that had been hidden behind them. Most of them were evening gowns that were, from the looks of it, on the pricier side. Each dress had been lovingly treated and tailored, not a single stitch out of place. Such lovely outfits and yet from the looks of it, they had yet to be worn.

With gentle fingers, Anna gripped the side of a white dress that had caught her eye and pulled it away from the others. With sleeves that consisted of lace and a skirt which was adorned with silver flowers creating a spiral path downwards, Anna felt as if she were reliving a childhood dream of being a princess as she looked over herself using the window's reflection. Aside from the fact that it was a little tight around her breasts, the dress fit perfectly as it embraced her curves before blooming into the skirt that although was short in front, was long and full in the back.

It wasn't until she had finally finished admiring herself that she began to wonder why a man such as this Macaulay Karenbach would own all these dresses. She couldn't see him luring women up to his cabin and gifting them with these extravagant outfits only to murder them. Such things seemed too intricate for this man who seemed basic and to-the-point. Not only that, but it seemed as if he treated these dresses as treasures. Though the windows, shelves and furniture belonging to some of the other rooms were covered in dust, this room alone stood clean.

As she continued to look into the closet, she took note of the shelf on top and spotted a small wooden frame which she guessed held a picture. On her tiptoes, Anna snatched the item from its spot and when her soles were down against the floor once again, she gave her newly acquired item a glance.

As she had suspected, there was indeed a picture lying within the frame though what it portrayed wasn't what she had expected. The portrait, she guessed, was supposed to be a family photo but had been torn just at the right angle to remove the heads of the parents and preserve the images of the two children.

One was a little girl, a brunette like Anna, who had large blue eyes which, judging from the redness around them, told Anna that she had just finished a good cry. Anna could picture strangers pinching her cheeks wherever her parents would take her out, and as for her age, Anna would guess she was probably no more than four at the time this picture was taken. Shifting her eyes over to the boy next to the girl in the picture, she took in his features as she did the girl's.

The boy wasn't looking directly at the camera as he was supposed to, but instead had his head turned towards his sister as he held out a teddy bear to her. One could already tell he was a very loving big brother and a very easy child to raise. Though he was dressed in a fine suit, the idea that he was spoiled failed to come to mind. He had very pale blonde hair, a squared jawline, and aquamarine gems as eyes. The same traits of someone else she happened to know.

"Could this be…?" Anna muttered. It was hard to tell at first as the little boy in the picture had a genuine smile on his lips, but taking into account the eyes which always seemed to have the potential to peer into your soul even through a photo, Anna knew she couldn't be mistaken.

Turning her eyes back up towards the clothes within the closet, Anna began to wonder, had all these items been meant for his sister? Before she could further dwell on her new discovery, a chilling voice reached her ears.

"You should know better than to dig through other people's stuff, Miss Anna…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**A/N: Yes, I'm still alive and I'm sorry for the four-month wait. While my life is piling up with responsibilities, I also have three other fics I'm dedicated to finishing and I've been writing bits and pieces to each one of them during my free time. I felt it was only fair though, that since my Road to Life followers have been waiting longer than most, it should be this story that I update first. Forgive me if parts seem rather rushed, but I was trying to get as much of the story typed while I still had spare time. Thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you enjoy.**

Anna couldn't help but let out a little chuckle as she straightened herself up, turning to face the man. "Pardon my manners," her tone was insincere, "I must have forgotten the proper etiquette expected of a kidnap victim. I'll make sure to remember next time." As she walked past him to exit the room, she shoved the picture frame into his chest which he gripped before it fell to the floor.

As the brunette shimmied her way to the living room to prop herself in one of the velvet chairs, Macaulay slowly tilted the frame upwards so that he could look at the photo himself. His eyes immediately caught his sister's and for a long while to come, he remained where he stood, taking in her image. Anna, noticing his stillness, looked over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, he didn't seem all too big and intimidating.

He set the photo back in its regular spot before slowly making his way to the room Anna occupied like a queen. Before he would notice that she was watching him the entire time, she subtly shifted her eyes back towards the fireplace with its flickering flames. It wouldn't be long before she felt his presence at her elbow.

"The dress suits you." The words were unexpected and Anna hadn't the slightest idea to respond. She simply gave him a hum of acknowledgement as she continued to gaze into the fire. He made his way to the chair opposite of her and settled himself down just the same. He remained silent as he took her in; his eyes seeing past her clothes and skin to peer into her soul. Anna felt those icy blues on her and resisted the urge to gulp. "I'm sure she would have looked just like you…"

His words were whispered but Anna could tell he intended for her to hear them. Rising from her seat, she scoffed and made her way back to the other room. "Save me your sob story. I'm not in the mood to pity you or your unfulfilling life."

As Macaulay watched her retreating form, a smiled formed upon his lips. "No," he agreed, "I'm sure you wouldn't. You don't seem to care about much other than yourself."

Anna chuckled from his statement. "Am I so easy to read?"

He raised his face to stare at her; the smile he had originally worn having shifted into a devilish grin along the way. "It wouldn't surprise me if Sergei Dragunov knew you were alive all along."

"If he knew, he'd already be here." The brunette sneered back.

"And why do you think that? Why would he waste his life searching for you when you have nothing to offer him?" He noticed her gaze sharpen but continued to speak. "In your relationship, is it not true that you're the one that has everything to gain? The clothes, the money, the house. But him? What does he receive from you? That false idea of love?" He snickered. "We live in a world made up of all sorts of women. I'm sure he could find one that could give him that 'love' just as well as you did. Perhaps even better. Maybe his next woman won't be such a leech."

Anna felt her face contorting as her anger rose. Her arms, which she last recalled she had crossed against her chest, were now dangling at her sides, her fists clenching and unclenching with each heavy breath she took. Macaulay took note of her image then softened his features. "Now, Anna," he said gently, "I only jest. If Sergei should ever feel anything for another woman, it is only his selfish desire calling out to be satisfied; nothing close to what you would refer to as 'love.'" His smile had fully disappeared by now, leaving a solemn mien in its place. "We can pretend, but there is no such thing as love in this world."

This solemnity was probably the first true emotion Anna saw from this man. She could hear the painful past that rode on his words; a past made up of betrayal and loss. Having suffered a childhood in which she felt no warmth, Anna could understand where this idea derived from as she herself discarded any notions of love and made all her actions benefit solely herself. But upon looking in at the room she was preparing to enter, she could see that he was far more selfless than she had ever been.

"Ironic that you would say so," she said, crossing her arms back over her chest, "when you have a whole room dedicated to your sister." The extravagant dresses were one thing but the childhood toys and pictures that lined the shelves within the closet was the dead giveaway. "You can't tell me you don't love her after all of this."

As her eyes skimmed the aged dolls that lined the shelf, a strong hand gripped her shoulder, surprising her. When had he approached her so quickly? "Love…?" His voice was shaky, unlike the voice he had used throughout Anna's entire capture. His hand slowly traveled from her shoulder to the base of her neck before engulfing her neck entirely. "If you think that a man who took the life of someone he adored is displaying love, then your vision of love is obscured…"

Anna let out a gasp but even she didn't know if it was from the lack of air she was suffering or from the fact he had just delivered to her ears. She reached up to pry his fingers from her neck but to no avail. He was much too strong for her.

"I killed my sister…" He grimaced as he tightened his grip on her. Even though he wasn't even a foot from her, to Anna, he sounded as if he were yards away. Gradually, the brunette's hands gave up on their attempt as they slowly dropped back down to her sides. With her body limp Macaulay passed her a disgusted look before tossing her to the ground.

Rozalia. It was the name echoed in Anna's ears before she had blacked out.

**XxxxxxX**

Sergei couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the work done on Benedict Karloff. With the duct tape so well executed, all it took was a hogtie to complete the image. Lars took in the image as well and had little to say. Instead he shook his head disapprovingly at the corporate owner. "You shouldn't cause so much trouble," he lectured. Turning to his subordinate, he motioned towards the pile of sin in their helicopter. "He's done his role. Let's get him off."

As two soldiers began to roll him off, Maximilian rose from his seat and asked Lars, who was just settling down at his own seat, "We're just going to let him go?"

"I don't see why we should bother with him anymore than we've already had," was Lars' response.

"But what of his crimes?"

Lars shook his head. "As much as I hate to say this, but that is none of our concern. If he truly has a history ridden with so much crimes, it won't take long for the Russian or British government to take note and subdue him on their terms."

Jin, who, if not for his overwhelming presence, would have gone unnoticed due to his silence, spoke up for the first time since Sergei and Lars boarded the helicopter. "It has been twenty-four years since his crime, Lars. What makes you think, after two decades, he'll get captured now?"

"I'm not sure about you," Lars responded stoically, "but I assume after this event he'll be all the rage on the news. That'll definitely excite some controversy. His records will be dug in deep."

"Men like him understand nothing but destruction. What good will it bring to cage him?"

There was a silence that took over afterwards. "And what about you, Jin?" It was Sergei's deep, melancholic voice that shattered Jin's moment of victory. "The lives you stole – the years they had left. You think using God's Recipe justifies killing them?"

"Everyone I killed," Jin began, "were all guilty…Blinded by their own avarice."

Sergei's eyes shifted into fine slits, his thoughts obvious to all those around him. "And Anna?" He took a step closer to Jin. "What about her?"

His shadow was now looming over the black clad figure and everyone around them dared the young man to speak. He slowly turned his eyes upwards to meet Sergei's and lacking any compassion or common sense, whispered, "To create the perfect world, sacrifices must be made. She was only a minor casualty. Replacable."

Before he could even blink, Jin found himself hovering a few inches off the ground by the collar of his shirt. The anger that reflected out of Sergei's eyes had muted him and he grimaced, ashamed to admit that the Russian's moves had caught him off-guard.

Oddly enough, though he was holding Jin in such a hostile position, Sergei sensed no attempt from any of his comrades to stop him. Whether they were shocked by his sudden moves as Jin had been, or they too wished to see the smug look disappear from the young man's face, they stood their ground and watched as Sergei delivered a satisfying punch to Jin's right cheek bone.

Just as quickly as it had happened, Jin found himself tossed onto the floor while Sergei's footsteps retreated to the front of the helicopter. Yggdrasil members stood around him and looked down upon him, none of them displaying any sign of remorse or offering a hand. Lars, who stood among them, simply stated coldly, "You deserve that."

Gradually the crowd dispersed; some to return to their allocated seats while others tended to Benedict Karloff still bound by the gag. "So we just roll him off," Frantz questioned unsurely. As hateful as this man was, just somehow it seemed wrong to leave him lying in a bush; duct taped and yards away from his house.

Lars nodded, "By the time he's found, we'll be well out of the area. No need to stir up anymore troubles here." He passed a cold glance towards Jin who had settled himself along the steel wall and muttered, "Russia already has enough on their plate…"

**XxxxxxX**

Once Karloff's gluttonous body had tumbled to the brambles and greenery below, the Red Rebel Army lifted off and headed east towards the land of the rising sun where Jin would be tried. The air in the helicopter had grown silent but a few hearts raced in anticipation at the thought that their goal was just an arm's length away. Built by a group of men and women who had been affected by Jin's tyranny, to see that justice was about to be achieved, it was no surprise that Yggdrasil was excited to see this day come to fruition.

Jin sensed the anticipation radiating throughout the air, but paid it no mind. Instead, he concentrated his focus on the man sitting a few seats ahead of the others. The Russian, Sergei Dragunov. Since hearing of his feats of two years ago; of the military dog rising to the ranks of a hero, a knight, an angel, a piece of Jin had grown envious. From his pitiful upbringing, fate should have brought him nothing but misery equivalent to the sorrow he caused. But he had defied fate; he gained reputation, companionship, a lover. While he, Jin, was caught in his family's blood war, unable to escape the tossing torrents fate threw in his direction. It was, in the young man's eyes, unfair.

Sensing a pair of eyes set on him during his reverie, Jin turned to meet Maximilian's gaze. The man seemed, too, to be deep in thought and had been since they released Benedict Karloff. "What's on your mind," he asked coolly.

Having heard Jin's voice for the first time since watching him receive Sergei's punch, Lars turned around in his seat to see what would spur conversation. Maximilian, startled out of his thoughts, noticed he had been staring and very casually averted his gaze, murmuring a "nothing" along the way.

Lars narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Knowing how strong-willed Maximilian was when it came to delivering justice to the corrupt – to the people who had wronged him – he didn't approve of Jin reflecting his ideas onto him. Giving his ally a solid glance, he put his trust into him, hoping that he wasn't thinking of taking the slippery slope Jin was presenting.

Maximilian knew the meaning behind the hard glance Lars was delivering to him and bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold his frustration back. He understood what Lars wanted, but at the same time, he failed to see the progress they were making. Their main goal was to subdue Jin Kazama in order to bring about peace to the world. But there would still be corruption and greed planting its roots beneath the surface of a nation. And it was in the seeds that sprouted that individual people would be harmed. Lars wants peace; to avoid world wars and mass homicides. But Jin worked on a smaller perspective. He wanted to help every individual; to save everyone.

He slunk his head forward to avoid his captain's eyes which in turn caused Lars' faith in him to fall.

**XxxxxxX**

Sergei didn't know how long they could keep this up. The snow had been falling at an increasing pace and now it appeared as if they were standing still as all they could see outside the windows was white upon white.

"Maybe we should land," the pilot called back to the crew.

"I don't see that we have a choice," Frantz added, awed by the amount of snow surrounding them. Where he was from there was definitely no such weather as this. "Considering if we know which direction is down…"

Sergei, who was settled down by the pilot, took a glance at the radar on the dashboard and suddenly took notice of an oddity: Something was detected. Seconds earlier, the radar had detected no obstacle. Whether it was due to the increasing storm or the helicopter's equipment, something was sneaking up on them. Suddenly his heart began to race. "What is that," he snapped at the pilot. From his knowledge, he knew no commercial plane would be out during such extreme weather, and the only other obstacle that the radar could pick up would be a broadcast tower which was bombed.

The pilot took a peek at the radar and turned white-faced. "You don't think…" He turned his gaze to Sergei who grimaced.

Rising from his seat, Dragunov made his way to Jin who still remained on the floor where he had last tossed him. Anger written in his steel-blue eyes, he once again hauled the Japanese boy to his feet until they were equal in height. "Call them back," were Sergei's demands to the younger man.

With everyone's nerves suddenly on high alert, Lars asked, "What's going on?"

Sergei sharpened his gaze he held on Jin, as if motioning for him to answer the question. Jin, with no facial expression written on his young face, responded, "I would assume the Mishima Zaibatsu has made its appearance."

While his crew members seemed to freeze at the words, Lars failed to see the gravity of the situation. Gently prying Sergei's hands from his nephew's collar, Lars said calmly, "I don't think they'll attack, especially when they know we have _him _onboard."

Jin shook his head. "You still don't understand, do you? They know as well as I do, that I will not die. Not until I've fixed this world."

Whether it was the tension in the air or the confidence he saw in Jin's eyes, Lars' final nerve, the one that kept his kindness and calmness intact, snapped and he soon found his own hands pushing Jin back against the steel wall. "I've had enough of this, Jin," he sneered. "You're not invincible. You're not some chosen warrior and you're definitely no God. You're –"

Before his final words could spill out his mouth, the crew around him lost their balance as the helicopter went topsy-turvy. "Damn!" The pilot grunted. "We've been hit!"

Pressed up against the wall, Sergei could see that the body of the helicopter was undamaged. Meaning, he shifted his eyes upwards, it was the propellers that had taken the shot. Even with the snow blocking out the scenery, it was obvious that, unless they could defy gravity, they were descending to the ground at an alarming rate. As if their situation couldn't get any worse, there was another explosion, this one causing the left side of the carrier to burst into flame, taking with it one of their comrades.

Seeing this, Lars' eyes widened and he reached out a helpless hand towards the destruction. "No!" He called out. Before he could get close enough to the gaping hole that dared to suck him out, Sergei gripped the back of his collar and hauled him back to his side.

Among the chaos that erupted around them, Lars managed to steal a glance at Jin and saw that he remained unaffected; his stoic features still well intact. Then, as if he noticed his eyes upon him, the young man slowly returned the gaze while a devious smirk crawled over his lips. It was in this moment that Lars felt that he was not looking into the face of his lonely nephew, but staring at a demon; a devil…

With the devil's image set in his mind, the plane crashed into the ground, bursting into a mixture of flames and shrapnel. Sergei's grip on him disappeared and there were no warm bodies surrounding him, no human to be heard. Only the chilly snow, flickering flames, and debris that sat on his back filled his senses.

Slowly opening his eyes, Lars strained to gain any feeling in his body; were his arms and legs still attached? Was he still alive? He was conscious of the heavy metal sitting on him and, reaching his arms out – glad they were still attached – he tried to drag himself out. Feeling a jutted edge of the metal claw against his thigh as he made his attempt to crawl out, he cringed and gradually stopped; refusing to add another sore spot to his weakened body.

He was concerned on a multitude of levels. His own wounds were one concern, but his crew and Jin stole the spotlight. As the smoke from the flames began to increase, Lars became temporarily blinded as all he could see was clouds of grey. During this moment of blindness, the scent of ash filling his nostrils, the Swede could hear a piece of metal clatter and the rustle of clothing.

"Sergei, is that you," he called out weakly.

There came no response other than the gentle crushing of snow under a firm step. The steps got closer until at last, a silhouette became visible through the fog. By the billowing overcoat that the silhouette was made of, Lars knew it couldn't be any of his crew and scowled. "Jin…"

Jin continued making his way towards Lars' fallen body until he stood right before him; Lars having to force his eyes skyward to peer into his face. "It would appear," his nephew spoke while looking down at him, "that God wanted you to live as well."

Lars watched as his figure turned his back to him and began to retreat into the billowing smoke, his last words being spoken along the way. "Because He knows that it's at the final stage that one of us shall lose our lives. And it's at that stage that He releases the reigns and leaves our fate to chance."

Lars shook his head and with his right arm, he reached beneath the hunk of metal covering him and retrieved his pistol. Even in his pitiful position, lying belly first in a heap of rubble, he aimed the shaky gun towards his nephew's back. "There won't be a final stage, Jin," he grimaced. "It ends here."

As if waiting for the bullet to pierce him between the shoulder blades, Jin stood his ground, daring his uncle to end his life. Taking a deep breath, Lars steadied his hand and murmured to himself, "One person's life or a thousand other lives…? Which outweighs the other?" He gulped as he made a decision, "I'm sorry, Jin…"

Just as Lars began pulling the trigger, a boot landed upon his hand causing the gun to slip from his grasp. More startled than hurt by the sudden intrusion, Lars looked up at the man who dared to stop him and gasped. A face, similar to his own, stared down at him, melancholy and hurt written in their eyes. Before a word could be shared between the two, the man kicked the gun away though Lars had no plans for it after this sudden surprise.

"Max…Why?" Those were the only words Lars' mind could form.

"Because," Max whispered, lifting his foot from his captain's hand, "Jin's right, Lars. You want to help everyone, I understand, but you can't. So long as there are people like Benedict Karloff in this world, people will get hurt. You can save your nation, your country, but it's the individuals that I want to protect." He passed Lars one last glance. "I'm sorry, Captain."

As he watched his own subordinate, his own brother, join Jin by his side, Lars, with his blood boiling from the betrayal, called out, "You son of a bitch!"

Such vulgar language, uncommon to be heard coming from Lars' mouth, caught Maximilian's attention and he stopped just a few feet short behind Jin. Despite the pain of the metal cutting deep into his skin, Lars strained to pull himself out further from the carnage, hoping that his next words would come out strong. "You think you're just turning back on our ideals by doing this. You couldn't be more wrong. You're turning your back to me. To Tougo and Jane. To the family that raised you when you had no one else. You can save as much people as you want; be deemed a hero. But what does that matter when you're alone in this world?"

His words hit close to home, but he shook his head refusing to succumb to the power those words held. "I've already come this far, Lars," he whispered, "Don't make me regret my actions…"

Jin, unbothered by his new company, gave Lars' lone figure one last look over his shoulder and felt almost a sense of admiration for him. Despite what has just occurred, the wounds – mentally and physically – that he had been dealt, Jin knew that he would be back on his feet. That's what made him a formidable foe, a worthy opponent. And between such rivaling adversaries came a mutual respect.

Perhaps it was due to this budding admiration that Jin couldn't bring himself to leave Lars in such a hopeless situation. In a hollow voice that was somehow heard among the crackling flames surrounding them, Jin said, "Anna Williams… There is a strong chance that she's alive out there."

Having not predicted that those would be Jin's choice of words, Lars believed he was mishearing things. "What…?" He whispered. "How do you…"

Leaving his question unanswered, the two figures, Jin and Maximilian, disappeared behind the smoke which had, over time, become black and ominous. With the ash filling his lungs and exhaustion taking its toll, Lars slumped back to the ground and tiredly eyed his surroundings. With the smoke, flames, and carnage all around him, he felt as if he was already in hell. He couldn't help but scoff at the hopelessness of his circumstances. _It would seem God is watching his back…_

But then he saw, from the corner of his eye, a piece of shrapnel lift from the snow. Forcing his head to turn that direction, he saw that rising from beneath the scrap of metal, from the hellish flames, was a single figure. An angel. "Sergei…" he mouthed.

Battered, bruised, and burned, Sergei hauled the inconvenient item off him and, on wobbly legs, took two weak steps away from the debris. After having awoken from a few seconds of blacking out, Sergei found himself buried beneath rubble. At first he had forgotten how he had gotten into such a predicament, but now, after pulling himself out and taking a look at his surroundings, he recalled quite vividly what had caused this tragedy.

Finding it hard to gather the breath he oh so needed among all this cloud of smoke, Sergei instead decided to ignore his body's need and seek out his companions. One quick scan of the area around him, it was no challenge for him to find Lars' body protruding out from underneath the piece of steel that had decided to fall on him.

With strength he had never known he had, the Russian lifted the cumbersome metal off his friend, discarding it among the rest of the rubble. He had feared that the latter half of Lars' body that he would uncover would be nothing but a bloody stump, but almost breathed a sigh of relief to see that he was still intact. If they were still in proper, working order though, would be another ordeal he would have to face.

Hooking his elbows beneath the Swede's shoulders, Sergei hauled him away from the rubble, grunting from his own wounds. Lars, who was barely conscious after having inhaled so much smoke, managed to murmur, "Thank you, Sergei…"

Ignoring the appreciations, Sergei, while stumbling along the way, dragged the dead weight over to a safer zone, laying him down as gently as he possibly could. There was blood running down along his leg and forehead, but Sergei doubted he appeared no better and dismissed the idea of tending to him now. There were other lives that needed saving, or in the least, bodies that needed proper burial.

So alone, with the bitter cold winds of Russia blowing around him, and the flames of hell scorching him, Sergei worked among the debris that had once been a helicopter, hauling the bodies of fellow allies out from the carnage. Tirelessly he worked, and though he thought his actions no more than what was expected of him as a soldier and friend, onlookers would have seen this differently.

They were not seeing a soldier saving his friends' lives from a catastrophe. Instead, they saw an angel among the flames of hell, saving wronged souls…

**A/N: For I know that most who read this story are Sergei fans, I promise the next chapter (whenever that will be) will actually have Sergei playing the main role. No more spotlight for Lars! Or at least not for a while. Again, thanks for dealing with my slow updates and please feel free to leave any comments, criticisms, or advice below.**


End file.
